


A Cursed Little Christmas

by lilyleia78



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Curses, First Time, Hugging, M/M, Tricksters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 21:06:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyleia78/pseuds/lilyleia78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A trickster gives Dean a gift to help him get in touch with his feelings. Dean is not grateful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cursed Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [almaasi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/gifts).



> Merry DeanCas Christmas! This turned out less crack-y than I intended, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Warnings for mild violence and Dean having a potty mouth.

“I think someone needs to get in touch with his feelings,” the freckled, red-headed hipster said with an ominous laugh. “Lucky thing I’m here to help with that.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and continued circling around the teenager who was more than he seemed, searching for a way past the invisible barrier that had sprung up between them. “Thank you, Dr. Phil,” he said. “Why don’t you let me closer and we’ll hug it out?”

The boy - the creature - smiled suddenly. “That’s a lovely idea. You need a few hugs in your life.”

“You volunteering?” Dean asked, brandishing his knife demonstratively. 

The creature laughed again. “Tsk, tsk, Dean Winchester. I’m only trying to help. Is that how you treat everyone who tries to help you?” He tipped his head thoughtfully, studying Dean through narrowed eyes. “I’ll just bet it is.”

“Help? If it’s anything like how you helped those two guys back at the bar, I think I’ll pass.” Dean shuffled forward slowly as he spoke, occasionally stretching out his knife to test the barrier between them.

The boy sneered. “Them? They were beyond help, those monsters. You should thank me for removing them from this Earth. They deserved their punishment.”

“Punishment?“ Dean groaned, realization dawning. “Damn tricksters.”

The boy smiled again, positively beamed, as if pleased and proud of Dean’s deduction. “You do know me! Bravo.” A commotion behind Dean distracted the boy briefly. “But now I really must go before your ginormous brother arrives and spoils our fun.”

“Aww, what’s the rush?” Dean asked, tensing for action in case an opportunity presented itself. “I thought you were gonna help me.”

“Don’t worry, handsome,” he said, “I haven‘t forgotten. You have my word.”

“Dean,” Sam yelled, rushing into the room in a burst of sound and speed.

“That’s my cue. Remember, I always keep my promises,” the boy said, “Until next time. Then the barrier and the boy both disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke.

“Damn drama-queen tricksters,” Dean grunted, waving away the cloyingly sweet smoke with one hand.

Sam coughed and led the way back toward the door and fresh air. “What did that mean?” he asked, “What promise?”

“Ah, nothing important,” Dean said, shaking his head dismissively. “Just a trickster who thinks he’s a shrink.”

“Well, if there was ever someone who needed some mental help,” Sam said with a smirk.

“Shuddup, Sammy,” Dean pushed his little brother toward the car before getting in himself.

“I’m just saying we shouldn’t be turning down a free psychologist. Your problems are many and varied.” Sam was leaning down to talk to Dean through the passenger window and he was laughing now, the sound dragging an answering smile from Dean.

“No, my problems are one. It’s name is Sam. Now shut your piehole and get in the car.”

“That’s a lot of hostility there, Dean. Want to talk about it?”

Dean started the car and threw it in drive. “Fine, bitch, walk yourself back to the room.” He took off down the road, Sam’s answering ‘jerk’ almost inaudible over the sound of Dean’s laughter.

***

**6 months later**

“’Round yon virgin, mother and child,” Dean sang softly as he hauled down the last box of Christmas decorations from Bobby’s attic.

“Holy Infant, so tender and mild.” Dean put the box on the coffee table and glanced up to catch Sam watching him with a small, confused smile. “What?”

“When did you learn all the words?” Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. “All the words to what?”

“Silent Night, Dean. You’ve been singing it off and on all day.”

“Really?“ Dean shrugged. “Cas likes the song. He’s always going around singing it. Guess it got stuck in my head.”

“Does he?” Sam said, “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Hmm,” Dean hummed noncommittally. “I guess you’re just not as observant as I am, Sammy.”

“Not about Cas I’m not,” Sam conceded.

“Let’s get this tree decorated,” Dean announced, clapping his hands together gleefully. “You get the lights up, and I’ll sort through the ornaments.”

Sam rolled his eyes but stood up to do as he was told. 

As he turned he saw Dean reach into the box and a flash of blue light race up Dean’s arm toward his heart. He whirled back quickly, rushing to his brother’s side, but careful not to make contact with him. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.” Dean’s voice was strained with something that Sam couldn’t identify. “I just picked up this blue ball and some kind of energy shot out of it,” he said, indicating the shining blue Christmas bulb he still had clutched in his hand.

“Bobby!” Sam yelled as he ran toward the kitchen to retrieve a pot holder so he could safely handle the ornament. “Bobby, something’s happened to Dean.” Sam settled for an old oil rag, Bobby not being the pot holder type of guy, and rushed back to the living room.

Dean was still sitting on the couch where Sam had left him, head down as he studied the source of his trouble. Sam held out the rag. “Give it here, Dean.” 

Dean passed it over without looking up, and Sam studied the Christmas decoration. It didn’t look like anything special, just a regular old glass Christmas ball ornament. It was a blue with an angel painted on the side - not a cartoon or a cherub, but a regular looking man in a white robe flowing around him, complete with a halo and a harp. Sam brought the bulb closer to him and squinted. Did that angel look familiar?

A soft stifled sob interrupted his train of thought. Alarmed, Sam put the ball down and sat on the couch next to the source of the noise. “Dean?” he asked, trying to keep the alarm from his voice. “Are you ok?”

Dean turned away from him. “I’m fine, Sammy, leave me alone.” His voice hitched brokenly, and Sam slowly reached over to grab Dean’s chin and make his brother face him.

Dean’s face was red, tears and snot were streaming down his face, and his chest was heaving as he fought to hide his distress. “Dean! You’re crying.”

Dean managed a fierce glare through his tears. “No shit, genius.” 

Bobby finally emerged from the depths of the house. “What’d you two morons do now?”

Sam turned to Bobby, shaking his head helplessly. “One of your ornaments zapped Dean.”  
Dean punctuated this statement with a loud sob, dropping his head into his hands.

Bobby’s eyebrows shooting up was the only outward reaction he had to the uncharacteristic display. “And it hurt?” he guessed.

“No,” Dean gasped out through his tears. “Light and warmth and then my eyes started tearing up.” Each word sounded like a struggle to get out, painful and wet. “Can’t stop.” The effort of holding back his sobs for that little speech seemed to overwhelm Dean, and he began crying in earnest - gasping sobs, howls of grief, and his tears were starting to soak his shirt.

Bobby took a step forward, looking both alarmed and distressed. His arm stretched out toward Dean, but he faltered after the first step. Sam shifted closer to his brother and instinctively put an arm across Dean’s shoulder in a half-hug, trying to offer the comfort of his presence.

Almost immediately the crying stopped. Dean’s breathing was ragged and uneven but the tears and sobbing and everything else was just over as if a switch had been flipped.

Sam, Dean and Bobby exchanged startled glances, tensing as they waited for the other shoe to drop. As the silence stretched on, tear-free, Sam pulled away to get a better look at Dean and to see if anything had changed since the tears stopped. Dean started to cry again, harder than before, the minute Sam’s arms dropped away. Going with a horrible hunch, Sam stood and pulled his brother up and into a full body hug.

Once again, the crying stopped nearly instantaneously.

Sam and Bobby stared at each other, wide-eyed, until Dean summed up what they were all feeling with one word.

“Crap.”

***

“Are you sure you’ve never seen this ornament before?” Sam asked for the third time in as many hours, pacing as he indicated the innocuous-looking ball sitting on the table.

Bobby, who had reluctantly taken over Dean hugging duties half an hour ago, glared at Sam over Dean’s shoulder. “Damn it, boy. Karen and I bought all those ornaments together for our first Christmas, and I haven’t forgotten a single one.”

Sam grimaced, sorry for dragging old memories into an already emotionally charged situation. “Of course not, Bobby. Sorry.”

Bobby waved him off with the hand not wrapped around Dean’s neck, keeping him close. Dean had taken to checking if the crying curse had spontaneously stopped by escaping from his family’s embrace. And, as neither Sam nor Bobby had the heart to listen to Dean’s heartbroken wails, they did what they could to prevent him from slipping away.

“Tell us again exactly what happened,” Sam said.

Dean sighed and tried to pull away from Bobby’s arms, but Bobby held tight. Dean gave up the struggle after few moments. “Can we at least turn so I’m not talking to the freakin’ wall?”

Bobby grunted in agreement and the two men shuffled around in a slow circle, wrapped in each others’ arms awkwardly like a couple of kids at their first Jr. High dance. It would have been funny if Sam had been capable of finding anything about their current situation funny. It would probably be hilarious in hindsight.

Once they were turned, and it was Dean facing Sam over Bobby’s shoulder, Sam prompted, “Well?’

“It was just a zap of light. It didn’t hurt or anything,” Dean said, repeating the same thing he‘d been saying for hours. “There was just a feeling of warmth that went up my arm.”

“And when you’re crying,” Sam pressed, “what are you feeling then? Pain?”

Dean rolled his eyes, clearly uncomfortable. “No, it’s not physical. I just feel sad.”

“Sad,” Sam repeated. “Just sad?”

“Just sad,” Dean confirmed, but his eyes slid away from Sam’s.

“Dean,” Sam said, praying for patience. “You have to tell us everything if we’re going to figure this out and help.”

Dean shifted his weight, and Bobby none-too-gently squeezed Dean’s neck. “Idjit. No one here is going to judge you for being human and having feelings. Just spill it before it’s bedtime and this hugging thing gets even more awkward.” 

Dean sighed and leaned ever-so-slightly into Bobby’s embrace for a heartbeat. “I feel sad, like sadder than I’ve ever felt before, but I can’t explain why. I’m not sad about anything in particular. I just feel helpless and…” Dean hesitated and closed his eyes, “And alone.”

Something in Sam’s gut clenched, and he was glad that Dean‘s eyes were closed and he couldn‘t see the dismay on Sam‘s face. Dean wouldn’t appreciate anything he perceived as pity. Sam cleared his throat, put on his professional face, and pushed on. “And you’re not thinking of anything in particular?” he asked.

Dean hesitated again. “Cas,” he mumbled, opening his eyes but keeping them averted.

“Cas?” Sam repeated, looking around the room for the angel.

“Yeah,” Dean said louder, meeting Sam’s eyes. “I think about Cas. Not about anything that has happened to him, or might happen to him, or anything that he’s done or anything. He’s just…there in my mind.”

“Have you tried praying for him?” Sam asked, excited to be getting new information.

“And say what?” Dean scoffed. “I can’t stop crying like an overgrown baby. Please come visit.”

“Boy, you’re the most emotionally retarded grown-ass man I’ve ever met,” Bobby grumbled. “And I’ve known your Daddy, so that’s saying something.”

“What‘s that mean?” Dean asked.

“Just call for him,” Sam said. “We obviously aren’t getting anywhere on our own. If nothing else we could put another hugger into the rotation.”

Dean balked, looking alarmed. “I’m not hugging Cas.”

Sam didn’t feel like arguing. He picked up Dean’s cell phone and hit #2 in Dean’s favorites.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas answered on the first ring.

“Hey, Cas. It’s Sam. Listen, there’s something wrong with Dean.” Sam stopped his explanation as Cas appeared in the room before him with the soft rush of wings.

“What’s wrong with Dean?” Cas demanded, glaring at Sam as if he held Sam personally responsible for Dean’s health and happiness.

“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean said, drawing Cas’s attention to the scene behind him. “It’s just a stupid curse or something.”

Sam moved closer to the trio so he could watch Cas study the situation. “Why are you in Bobby Singer’s embrace?” Cas asked coldly, surprising Sam with the hostility in his voice.

“Don’t get your feathers in a twist,” Bobby said, “He bawls like a newborn babe if he’s not being hugged.”

“A most peculiar curse,” Cas observed. “How did it happen?”

“He touched that ornament over there,” Sam explained, gesturing toward the offending object.

With typical disregard for his personal safety, Cas stooped and picked the ball up with his bare hands. Sam held his breath, hoping they weren’t about to add a weeping angel to their list of problems.

Cas inspected the ornament, no tears in sight. “An angel,” he mused out loud.

“Yeah,” Sam said, remembering something from earlier. “He looked familiar, but I can’t place him. Anyone you know?”

“It is not one of my brothers or a vessel I recognize,” Cas answered. “It does seem like something Gabriel would enjoy but…”

“Trickster!” Dean interrupted suddenly.

Cas frowned. “It is not Gabriel. I would recognize his grace if this was his work.”

“No, not your douche-y big brother, just an ordinary trickster,” Dean said, sounding relieved. “Remember Sam, the red headed hipster near St. Louis?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, feeling the familiar excitement of solving a case. “Freckled teenager. He said something to you about keeping a promise before he disappeared.”

“You let a trickster get away?” Bobby asked. Sam could hear the scowl in his voice.

“Not the point, Bobby,” Dean said. “He told me that I needed a hug and offered to help. He must have done this to me. That dick!”

Cas disappeared in the blink of an eye and reappeared just as quickly with a familiar figure trapped in his iron grip.

“Dean Winchester!” the trickster greeted enthusiastically. “So nice to see you again. Are you enjoying my little Christmas gift?”

Dean advanced on the trickster so quickly and with so much force that Bobby was dragged backwards a few feet before Sam moved to help.

“Remove the curse,” Cas commanded impatiently.

“Curse?” the trickster repeated, offended. “It’s a gift.”

Cas somehow managed to convey rolling his eyes without actually rolling his eyes. “Remove the _gift_ then.”

“Ah, ah, ah. No refunds or exchanges,” the trickster chided with a waggle of his finger.

“Your gift sucks,” Dean grumbled.

“Remove your gift,” Cas repeated, leaning over the trickster, nostrils flaring as he tried to glare the smaller man into submission. “Or I will end you.”

The trickster laughed merrily. “You can’t end me: I’m descended from the gods.”

Cas casually twisted the trickster’s arm at a painful angle until Sam heard a nasty sounding pop. “And I am a son of the True God. Remove the curse.”

The trickster’s eyes widened with pain and fear. “An angel of the Lord,” he whispered, seemingly to himself. “I can’t,” he stuttered, “But I can tell you how to end it,” he added quickly when Cas reached for him with two fingers.

“How?” Sam asked.

“It’s your standard ‘true love’s kiss’ curse,” he explained. “Or ‘true love’s hug’ in this case.”

Dean groaned. “Great. So all we have to do is track down some chick I’ve never met and ask her to hug me, all while either crying or being hugged by one of these bozos? Piece of cake.” 

The trickster looked honestly confused. “But that’s the beauty of the gift!” he said, sounding more like his normal, cheerful self. “I knew you were emotionally…stunted, shall we say? So I built something special into the gift. You’ll think of your true love constantly when you’re not being hugged.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as Dean, Sam and Bobby all realized the implications of that statement. Cas, oblivious to the tension in the room, searched the trickster’s face (or his soul or something) and nodded. “He is telling the truth.”

Cas pressed two fingers to the trickster’s head and the red-headed not-teenager disappeared.

“Bring him back,” Dean demanded, voice hoarse. “There’s been a mistake.”

Cas tipped his head to one side curiously. “That is impossible. I have sent him back to his brethren. It would be dangerous to retrieve him, even for me. I assure you he was telling the truth.”

“No,” Dean said weakly.

Cas crossed his arms over his chest. “Who is this individual? I will retrieve him or her at once.”

“Ok,” Sam said, too-loud, “I think Bobby and I should give you two some privacy.”

“Yeah,” Bobby agreed, letting go of Dean and quickly walking toward the front door. “Let’s go get some egg nog. With kick. Lots of kick.” Sam hurried after him.

The last thing Sam heard before the door shut behind him was Dean crying softly.

***

**One year later**

Sam carried the final box of ornaments toward Bobby’s living room and stopped in the doorway, smiling at the tableau before him. Cas was standing in front of the tree trying to put up the last of the lights but he was being hampered by Dean, who was pressed against his back, arms tight around Cas’s waist, face buried in Cas’s neck.

It had taken a few awkward conversations, some angst, a few misunderstandings on Cas‘s part, and a lot of uncomfortable soul-searching on Dean’s, but Sam thought it was worth it for this moment and, hopefully, all of the ones in their future.

“This is the last of it,” Sam said, interrupting the intimate scene.

Dean glanced over his shoulder. “Thanks, Sammy.” He pulled away from Cas with obvious reluctance to sort through the box with Sam.

“Hey,” Dean said, reaching into the box and removing a familiar blue ball. “Look at this.”

“Careful, Dean,” Sam warned, leaning away, “Remember what happened last time.”

“Aw, it didn’t turn out so bad. Besides, Cas has the cure for all my ails.”

Sam grimaced, disgusted and delighted by his brother’s happiness. “I can’t believe we kept that.”

Cas joined them and carefully took the glass bulb from Dean’s hands. “I asked Bobby to save it,” he said mildly. Sam was surprised to see a light blush rising up Cas’s neck. “I find that I’m rather fond of it.”

“Aw,” Dean cooed, his tone mocking and his smile sincere. “My angel is a romantic.”

“Shut up, Dean,” Cas said grumpily, but Sam noticed that he didn’t object to Dean pulling him back into his arms.

“It’s ok, Cas,” Dean said, “I like it too.”

Sam looked away as goofy smiles gave way to soft kisses. “I’ll just be…not here,” he said, turning toward the exit.

“Wait Sam. We’re supposed to do this together, as a family,” Cas said, turning his big blue puppy dog eyes on Sam.

Sam paused. “Think you two can keep your hands off each other long enough to decorate the tree?” he asked with a stern look at his companions.

Dean and Cas shared a doubtful look. “No promises.” Dean’s smile was unapologetic.

Sam shook his head and laughed. “Fine. I’ll get Bobby, and we’ll do this quickly so you can get back to being disgusting together.”

“Thanks, Sammy!” Dean called to his retreating back. “You’re the best.”

“I thought I was the best,” Cas said, pout audible even though Sam wasn’t facing him.

“Whole different criteria, Cas,” Sam heard Dean say reassuringly, followed by disturbing wet, smacking sounds.

Sam decided to take an extra long time finding Bobby. Maybe find some of that eggnog with the extra kick from last year while he was at it. For sanity’s sake. And for the love of his brother. He began to sing softly to himself as he walked. 

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas..."


End file.
